Nepal 1936
by Pir8grl
Summary: The killer, the klept, and the pyro visit a certain bar.


Leonard Snart tensed and rolled over as the door to his quarters slid open. "The hell?" he mumbled as a puffy pile of blankets, roughly Sara's height, shuffled towards him.

"My room is cold," she said, by way of explanation.

Snart frowned as he realized that his room was cold, too. "Gideon?"

"The environmental systems are temporarily offline for maintenance, Mr. Snart."

"For how long?"

"Unknown," the AI replied.

"Peachy," Snart muttered.

"Gideon, you do realize that we're parked on the side of a mountain in Nepal, right?" Sara demanded. "You couldn't have landed us on a tropical island first?"

"Then you'd be complaining about not having air conditioning," Snart said, shifting over to accommodate his new bunkmate. "Come on."

* * *

"You've got cold feet, assassin," Snart grumbled as they headed for the galley, in search of something hot to drink. Both wore heavy jackets and had their hands shoved deep inside the pockets.

"And you would know that how, exactly, Mr. Snart?" Rip asked curiously.

"We know that because your ship decided that a stopover in the Himalayas was the perfect time to turn off the heat," Sara retorted.

"Whaddaya mean, there's no coffee?" they heard Mick bellowing from down the corridor.

"Well, that answers that question," Sara sighed.

* * *

"The Raven?" Snart asked quizzically. "How does a bar in Nepal have an English name?"

"Dunno," Sara shrugged.

"Don't care," Mick added.

The three stepped inside the battered wooden building, which contained an equally battered assortment of clientele. They selected an out of the way table, and sat down.

"They have a fireplace. I think I'm in love," Sara sighed, pushing back her hood.

"What's good to drink in a place like this?" Mick asked.

"Dunno. I've never been to 1936 before," Sara replied. "Know what I'd kill for right now? An Irish coffee."

Snart smirked and made his way over to the bar. He was perusing the bottles on display, and wondering how the hell to place an order, when a dark haired woman stepped behind the bar and grinned at him.

"You're a long way from home," she remarked, eyeing him appreciatively. "What can I get you?"

"Don't suppose you've got any hot coffee and Irish whiskey? My friends and I have been out in the cold for a while."

The woman smirked wickedly at him. "I can't vouch for the Irish part, but yeah, I can make something that'll warm you up. You might want to keep an eye on your lady friend," she cautioned, "we don't see a lot of blondes around here."

"She can look after herself," Snart assured his new acquaintance.

There was a muffled thud, and cry of pain, and Snart turned quickly, half-expecting Mick to have started something. Mick had joined in a shot drinking contest, leaving Sara alone at their table…except for the guy whose hand was now pinned to the tabletop with one of her knives.

"Impressive," the bartender allowed, passing him two steaming mugs. "Mohan!" she yelled, followed by a stream of some incomprehensible language.

The big man moved to their table, pulled the knife from the intruder's hand and passed it back to Sara. He hauled the howling man to the door, opened it, and unceremoniously chucked him out into the snow.

Snart reached for his wallet, but the woman shook her head. "First round's on the house. Call it payment for the entertainment."

"Thanks."

"Name's Ravenwood. Marion Ravenwood. This is my place."

"That explains the name."

"It does indeed." She raised a glass in salute and threw back the drink.

* * *

"Looks like you made a new friend," Sara teased as Snart slid back into his seat. He slid her a mug and she took an appreciative sip.

"What can I say? She's a very interesting lady."

"Oh, really?" Sara replied, waggling her eyebrows. "She looks European. How'd she end up here?"

"American, actually. Her dad was an archaeologist."

"And now she's here, on her own, drinking Mick under the table. Impressive."

"Funny. She said the same thing about you."

Sara smirked and drained her mug.

* * *

"Ah. I see you three have decided to grace us with your presence," Rip grumbled as they made their way onto the bridge.

Mick was leaning rather heavily on Snart and Sara's shoulders, and they deposited him in the first seat they came to.

"I see you decided to turn the heat back on," Snart observed.

"Gideon's repair cycle is complete," Rip informed them. "Now we can get back to the business of hunting down Vandal Savage. We're on a bit of a timetable. The place we need to go will burn to the ground tonight. The reason I brought us here -"

"-is that the lady who owns that charming establishment we visited is the daughter of a rather prominent archaeologist. One who specialized in ancient Egypt, and left several of his finds in her possession. Including this one."

Snart produced a tiny gold statuette in the stylized shape of a hawk with his usual theatrical flourish.

Kendra stepped forward and snatched it from his hand.

"You're welcome," Snart drawled.

* * *

Sara and Snart proceeded back to their quarters. "How'd you even know to grab that thing?" she asked curiously.

He shrugged. "We're stuck in the Himalayas. That bar was the only place for miles. I saw an Egyptian hawk god on the mantel. It wasn't too hard to put it together."

Sara stopped suddenly in the middle of the corridor. She grabbed Snart's sleeve to stop him. "Wait. Rip said the bar would burn to the ground tonight. Gideon - the woman who owns it - she's not gonna die tonight, is she?"

"No, Miss Lance. Marion Ravenwood will not die tonight."

"What happens to her?" Snart asked, curious in spite of himself.

"She will be rescued from the fire tonight by a former colleague of her father. They will go on to have an adventure in Egypt, and eventually return safely to the United States."

"Wow. That sounds like it'd make a helluva movie," Sara observed, smiling.

"Yeah, it does," Snart agreed.


End file.
